the wind stretches without mercy through these scenerys
the heat slowly turns behind my back

and the world paints my face in pale, pale colours
my hands carry your lifelines
your haze

will I now tackle the winters that will come
autumn, no longer beautiful in its colours

the spring no longer a new beginning
summer no longer a warm breeze

sacrifice.....
its hidden in the vestige of my hart
I don`t exist here


Therese Herheim 06

I expect that you don’t expect that I expect you to define me in anyway
and do I need to collect attempts just to satisfy your point of whew?
i say no
I rather ask you to shoot me in the head
pang........